


The Value of Perspective

by biscuit_tin



Series: Bragging Rights, and Other Stories [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Humor, For Want of a Nail, Gen, Kid Fic, Nina Lives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Roy Mustang, Parenthood, Series, some 2003 fma if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-05-26 17:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15006227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuit_tin/pseuds/biscuit_tin
Summary: Sometimes, regardless of the motivations, the end result is the same.And sometimes things change.





	1. A Nail...

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this story was only going to be about 2,000 words long. 
> 
> And then it grew about 30 pages past that point.

# Bragging Rights and Other Stories

## The Value of Perspective

Roy Mustang can no longer count the number of times over the years he has been awoken in the middle of the night - unjustly, he might add. His slumber has been interrupted so often that now, at the gentle age of 29 years, he can no longer allow himself to end the evening with a proper nightcap. It is an absolute tragedy, but waking up insensate is too much of a hindrance.

Perhaps, if he charged an after-hours service fee, Roy would be on his way to an early retirement - wealthy enough to purchase his own piece of private coastline somewhere. Or - at least he would gain a wealth of sleep if not funds, because _surely_ people would stop buggering him at all hours if they had to _pay him for the pleasure_.

Well - he may not be retiring to any private beaches soon, but his salary as a Colonel does well enough. He’ll take the sleep, thank you very much. He rolls over, pressing the pillow over his head in an attempt to muffle the noises from downstairs and wishing half-heartedly that doing so would suffocate himself into somnolence. Roy refuses to dignify his alarm clock with a single glance; it was obnoxiously late when he’d finally clawed his way out from beneath the teetering piles of files and correspondence and _paperwork_ in his downstairs office, and it’s even later now.

There’s not a shred of luck to be had, of course. Not only has the heavy fist pounding on his front door continued to do so, but now it’s accompanied by the nuisance leaning on his doorbell so long Roy fears they may have put their whole hand through the mechanism. With a long groan of exasperation he rolls over, snapping on the bedside lamp.

“I’m _coming!_ ” Roy shouts in the direction of his front-facing bedroom window. He grinds his teeth while doing up his trousers and donning a thick pullover he’d left hanging over the footboard of the bed. The weather has been dreadful all week: the rainy season may last longer up in Central, but down in East City the rain comes harder, and the winds tend to rattle the windows no matter what charms he throws at them. He has absolutely no intention of catching a cold just from answering his door at all hours - whoever it is, they can damn well wait for Roy to put on a pair of socks.

If he gains some small, petty revenge by taking his own sweet time in actually _answering_ the door - well.

Roy keeps one gloved hand in his trouser pocket just in case, as he finally stalks irritatedly down the stairs and through his pokey front hall. The knocking has started up again, more insistent than ever.

“Coming!” he calls once more. Roy snaps back the bolt without preamble, unlocks the door and throws it wide. The dim light that spills out from the hallway illuminates the shadowed visitors standing on his front steps in the storm. Roy can just make out Edward Elric - bedraggled and pale, long since soaked through by the rain. Alphonse looms behind his older brother, shifting in nervous agitation while drops of water ping hollowly off his metal plating. The waterlogged horsetail threaded through his helm hangs limp, sticking to his back. And… there is something bundled tightly in Edward’s arms; it’s wrapped securely in his red cloak to keep off the rain and held too close to the boy’s chest to be visible, but whatever his burden is, it’s large. Some substance appears to be smeared on Ed’s cheek, but in the dim lighting Roy cannot discern whether it’s blood or of less nefarious origin.

He swallows.

## ~*~

Roy wished, fervently, that he had never uttered the words.

There had been no shortage of opportunities to turn right back around from this recruiting venture. They should have stopped and headed back to East City when he’d first heard that the Elrics - a pair of brothers who had, from time to time, turned up on Eastern Headquarters’ radar as a talent in a far-flung border town - were _children._ Of course, that only piqued his curiosity at the time; and after all, they were nearly in Risembool anyway. They’d already traveled more than a day’s journey - why _not_ just have a look? If these Elric brothers were so talented that they were beginning to gain some local renown as children, perhaps it would be worth his time to speak to their parents - maybe make an offer to sponsor the boys’ higher education when they were old enough…

They’d come upon the house within the hour and knocked on the door. Twice. But it was clear no one was home - hadn’t been home in several days. Roy didn’t _have_ to nose around further. He could have left then, and given the entire endeavor up as a bad job. Only… just a _peek_ in the window, once. To double-check. The curtain was parted a bit - just there, see? What harm would it do to look? He’d craned his neck and caught a glimpse of a streak of blackened blood smeared on the floorboards just beyond the edge of innocent linen cross stitched in soft greens and purples.

Of course, Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye had to conduct a perfunctory investigation inside the house at that point.

All of these tiny decisions. The poking and prodding - the constant choice of ‘just a little bit more’ or ‘just a little bit further’ - had brought Roy Mustang to this point. _Still_ , though - he _had_ had a choice.

Now here he was, having barreled his way into the local healer’s surgery. He’d looked at these two little boys - or, not so little, really. Not after what they’d torn themselves apart trying to accomplish. Roy was no slouch, he could comprehend the intent woven into that disastrous array in the abandoned basement, even if biology wasn’t his chosen field of study. He coolly assayed the facts, the ruin they’d made of themselves - or tried to.

However, Roy could not find it within himself to remain aloof or anything approaching impartial. In the hopeless, hollow gaze of Edward Elric he could not help but see his own nephew Harry. Harry - who for the longest time would only fall asleep if Roy held him while reciting the periodic table by rote on nights when Maes had been called away for work. Harry was five years old now; clever, playful, and desperately curious. The little boy had been endlessly delighted when his uncle had begun patiently guiding him through a simple study of chemical reactions. They’d made homemade sparklers in the small yard of the townhouse Roy had purchased in East City. The Hughes’s had paid him a house-warming visit, now that Roy had something better than the small flat he’d initially let upon first moving for his transfer to Eastern Command. Gracia had been tickled, and Maes had developed an entire new photobook from that single afternoon.

Harry was five. Presumably, that was how old these children had been when their mother had passed away - and when the gaping wound left in her absence presented Edward and Alphonse Elric with the impetus for… _this._

If it _had_ been Harry - but he wouldn’t have. Roy would have been there. Maes had, point of fact, been in just the right place when Harry had needed someone. _Somebody_ would be capable of stepping in now, if the unthinkable were to happen - multiple someones. Trying to imagine his nephew ever being driven to that depth of desperation turned Roy’s stomach.

And so, he’d done it. Before he could think better of it - before he could reign in his own tongue - the offer Roy had only ever intended to make to a pair of established adults slipped from between his teeth and was made to a pair of orphaned minors instead.

“State Alchemist.”

Roy could have kicked himself. Catching Riza’s eye from the corner of his own, he was certain his Lieutenant would do exactly that once they’d left. It was too late however. He’d stoked a fire behind Edward Elric’s gaze. Drive. Purpose, hope - Roy could almost perceive the sparks of thought which leapt to thought and grew into a white-hot blaze as the idea took hold. After years of practice, Roy was nothing if not capable of setting fire to things.

Even so - even if it was too late to reclaim his earlier proposition, Roy still extracted his business card and a pen from the pockets of his coat. He scratched out the address to his townhouse in East City on the back and held the card out to the younger brother after a moment’s deliberation. The older boy was too absorbed in his thoughts, and the elderly surgeon, Roy suspected, was as like to throw the card out as not. He did think, though, that Alphonse might keep track of it.

“Take this - that’s my personal address. Even if you decide against joining with the State, you are both welcome to stay here. I intend to assist you however I can.”

Alphonse had been somewhat taken aback at the offer, but had nodded and murmured polite thank you’s nonetheless. After that, Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye had politely excused themselves. They’d left the old healer’s shop without fanfare and that had been the end of their encounter.

A little over ten months later, the Elrics had turned up together on his front steps, unannounced. It was a weekend - Roy hadn’t planned for any visitors. Frankly, after not having heard a peep from either of the boys in nearly a year expressing interest in his offer one way or the other, he had since given up wondering if they would ever reach out at all. Now, here they were - nervous, determined, and carrying what Roy was sure was one very illicitly charmed suitcase between them. Roy stood in his doorway blinking down at his unanticipated guests. He still had one finger sandwiched between the pages of the book he’d been skimming when the doorbell had rung. There had been a twinge near his temples then - the budding pressure of a tension headache that later he would swear presaged exactly how much of a pain keeping tabs on Edward and Alphonse Elric would be.

## ~*~

“You… you never knock.”

Any rude, annoyed greeting he would have made died a swift death in the back of his throat as soon as he saw who was on his front steps. Roy really ought to stop expecting these nighttime interruptions to be anything other than an emergency.

“I -” Ed swallows. “You… You have to invite us in. But not - I mean, you don’t -” He stops himself, and glances briefly down at whatever he’s carrying in his arms; looks back up at Roy, determined.

“ _Please_ Roy,” the boy’s voice cracks, “Please grant us shelter under your roof.”

Well. If that’s not a Request with a capital ‘R’. The phrasing bears the ring of ritual intent and Roy shivers. Alarmingly, he feels as if they are being watched by some weighted gaze. Edward’s face is wan and desperate in the thin light as he continues to clutch his burden close. If he were a cruel man - if Roy truly demanded it of him, right now, he thinks that this boy would actually beg on bended knee in this deluge. The very notion burns down the back of his throat like bile and Roy pays almost no mind to the dissipation of that measuring gaze as he hurriedly moves out of the doorway to allow the Elrics entry.

“Quick, get inside before you freeze.” Both boys’ shoulders sag visibly with relief and Edward rushes past him and into the hallway with a tight nod as thanks.

“ _Thank you_ , Colonel.” Alphonse says feelingly, his voice a tinny sigh full of relief. He nods to Roy as he follows his brother into the home.

Roy trails after them down the hall, making a valiant effort to not wince over the dark trail of water blossoming in their wake as they hurry to the sitting room. Al begins switching on various lamps as his brother cuts a swift path towards the sofa and sets down whatever it is that Roy is not yet asking about. Or thinking about.

Before he can summon the presence of mind to do so himself, Edward turns and with negligent ease begins vanishing the sopping trail of water silently. Instead of staring exasperatedly as the boy employs a charm that he only learned in the past year with the ease of an adult, Roy turns to light the fireplace. Magic or no, Roy has had four years time to become accustomed to this Elric brand of improbable feats.

A sharp clap behind him, proceeded by the flare of alchemical energy while Roy is tending his hearth - followed closely by another swift clapped transmutation - and the boys are dried off by the time Roy has turned back around. The air in the room is now thick and humid as the lingering steam dissipates slowly. The cheerful blaze will hopefully put paid to the dampness soon. With the sitting room now properly lit, Roy can see that what he’d first feared was a smear of blood on Ed’s face is instead a dreadful bruise darkening around his eye. It begins just above the left cheek and reaches out towards the bridge of the teen’s nose. Roy suppresses the flare of concern for the moment; questioning Edward immediately about his injuries only puts his young subordinate on the defensive. For now, Roy leads with what he hopes is a much more innocuous question.

“Out of curiosity, why didn’t you use a drying charm on yourselves as well?”

Ed shrugs one tired shoulder as he tucks his wand away, having taken it out again to place what he suspects is a warming charm around the sofa. The subject of which Roy is still not going to ask about yet.

Nope.

“S’really just meant for surfaces - doesn’t always get in and around the seams of my automail or between the pieces of Al’s armor unless you overpower the spell. The last time I tried that, I dried up the motor oil, so…”

Al snorts, apparently remembering the occasion. Roy just nods in acceptance. He has some inkling of what the boy’s mechanic likely had to say on the topic - she is a rather formidable young woman, that Miss Rockbell…

While Roy’s been woolgathering, Ed has started pacing agitatedly back and forth across the worn rug in front of the fireplace. Alphonse waits off to the side, unsure whether he should get between them or not, and - well. Whatever this fresh disaster is, it can’t be good. Edward preempts any more of Roy’s questions when he finally turns to look at the man, tugging on the roots of his fringe with one hand, and flinging out the other in frustration.

“ _Look_. I’ve never asked you for anything, all right?” He bursts out.

All things considered, Roy feels he does a very good job of _not_ pointing out that that statement is factually correct only because all the evidence shows that Edward Elric simply _does_ things however he likes, _whenever_ he likes. Without asking. And, despite what everyone else in the office, including Riza, - who _bloody well ought to know better_ \- seems to think, Alphonse ‘Whoops Don’t Worry Sir, I’ll Clean Up That Potion Spill’ Elric is _not_ any better. Please refer to the itemized list of **every single occasion** in which Roy Mustang has arrived home after a long, dreadful day of shuffling paper across his desk, only to find his kitchen overrun by two teenaged boys - one clearing out the shelves of his icebox and pantry while the other tries to manage some bubbling mystery concoction on his poor, abused cooker. The days in which Harry ‘Oh I Know Where He’s Been Hiding the Good Biscuits’ Hughes is added into the domestic chaos are… best not to think about those days, either.

Nope.

Clearly, some of Roy’s thoughts must have been reflected on his face, because Ed rushes to clarify.

“I mean - I’ve never asked for a day off, or refused a mission, or called out sick, or anything…”

Roy cannot stop himself from lifting one eyebrow at that. Apparently, mandatory hospital recovery time does not count as a sick day - that’s news to him. The boy steamrolls on, either not noticing or simply choosing to disregard his C.O.’s sardonic expression.

“…So I - I just. _Please_? I’m asking **now** and I promise I won’t - well, I won’t promise not to _ask_ you stuff ever, because that’s stupid, but… I promise I’ll _try_ not to ask for any big favors, just…” Edward sighs and looks up at Roy with beseeching eyes. “We really didn’t know who else to go to. Please, we nee-”

“Big brother…?” A small, unsteady voice from the sofa sleepily interrupts Ed’s nervous non-explanation.

Ed turns whiplash quick and immediately rushes to the sofa where Roy finally catches sight of what - or whom, rather - was hidden beneath that red cloak. A little girl sits up slowly as Edward settles carefully next to her and Alphonse hovers worriedly nearby. She scrubs the sleep from her eyes and in doing so, the cloak which concealed her slips down low enough to reveal one heavily bandaged forearm that’s inexpertly wrapped.

A very familiar little girl.

Her auburn hair hangs loose and tangled around her, rather than in the two thick braids she tends to favor. Roy watches somewhat bemusedly as the boys fuss over the nervous child. Ed does up the fastenings on the cloak properly and casts another warming charm over her almost absently while Alphonse snatches the quilt off of the back of one armchair and tucks it gently around the girl’s shoulders.

Now that she is properly awake though, her bottom lip is starting to wobble dangerously. Finally, the child’s eyes begin to fill and rapidly spill over with tears.

“Ed - _Edward_ …” she hiccups and begins sobbing in earnest. Ed scoops her up onto his lap, blanket and all - mindful of her arm - and attempts to soothe her.

“Shhhhh… It’s all right, Nina. We’re not there anymore. You’re _safe_. Shhhh - I promise you’re safe here. Soooo safe - look, big brother Al is here too, see?”

Somehow, Alphonse’s hulking physical presence as he crouches down by the arm of the sofa exudes warmth and expansive comfort. He waves genially for the tearful little girl’s benefit. She sniffles and reaches out to clasp his large gauntlet with her own two small hands, tears still streaming steadily down her face. Roy finally snaps out of his stupor.

“ _Fullmetal_.”

The tableau of comfort goes still.

 _“Why_ is Shou Tucker’s daughter here in my sitting room in the middle of the night?”

They turn as one to look at the Colonel. Ed and Nina’s eyes have grown wide as saucers. The brothers whisper hoarsely, nearly in unison.

“Um…”

Roy feels the migraine flaring at the base of his skull and he tries very hard not to grit his teeth.


	2. A Camel...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have renamed this story "Roy Mustang Opens a Lot of Doors - Literally. It's Entirely What it Says on the Tin." 
> 
> Or perhaps not. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

# Bragging Rights and Other Stories

 

## The Value of Perspective

He spotted him sitting on a bench only a short distance from the front steps of Central’s exam facility. _Finally -_ Roy breathed a sigh of relief; the news that Alphonse would not be able to safely advance to the interview stage of the examination due to this year’s required physical had been received by the boys better than he’d hoped, but not by much.

Roy was not surprised that Edward looked marginally relieved at the news - nor was he surprised that Alphonse, attuned as he was to his older brother, had noticed Edward’s relief - and was even more put out over it. As soon as all of the remaining examinees were herded off to await their interviews, the younger Elric had excused himself and disappeared. Roy had asked Maes, who’d stopped by to be nosy (and he supposed, to invite them to dinner), to keep an eye out for Edward’s return and had gone to search for Alphonse himself.

Roy couldn’t fault the boy’s disappointment. He’d rarely known anyone that dedicated to their research at the age of twenty, to say nothing of a pair of children - even so exceptionally gifted. The Colonel had offered up two bedrooms, as well as access to his personal library, to the boys as a place to study - and had they _ever._ Weeks of intense review, hushed debates and reams of hand-taken notes passed back and forth at the dinner table whenever he managed to lure the elder Elric down to the kitchen with the enticing smells of takeaway.

Frankly, the whole experience was how Roy thought keeping a cat might be like: he left out necessary things such as stationary in the sitting room, or food ready to eat in the kitchen, and that was all that was required of him. Other than the occasional sighting or that distant awareness of some other life sharing the same air and furniture as him, Roy barely exchanged more than a scrap of conversation -excluding polite greetings or thanks - in the three weeks that the brothers had stayed in his home.

There were little signs of the presence of his temporary housemates of course. Roy had begun to notice after the first week - a squeaky door that now swung smoothly on its hinges, an old end table that no longer rocked unsteadily because all the legs were even once more, and a cutlery drawer in the kitchen that no longer popped off the track when opened, to name a few. He’d been flummoxed initially; but, recalling Edward’s considering look when Roy had refused their offer of monetary compensation for their stay, he figured that it might be better not to mention that he’d noticed, in the end. Roy continued on as he’d meant; he simply ensured that they had what materials he could offer for their use, as well.

On more than one night though, Roy would leave his own personal office late only to catch a glimpse of light from the sitting room. More often than not, he would find a lonely Alphonse still quietly paging through some text - either having returned after Edward had finally dragged himself off to bed, or with his elder brother passed out on the sofa with a book or a pile of notes still in his hand. Aware that Alphonse was incapable of sleep, Roy would join the boy on the occasions when he was alone, selecting a book and settling on the sofa to offer some silent company for a little while.

When Roy finally found Alphonse outside, staring off towards the park and cafés across the street without really seeing them from the bench he’d settled on, the Colonel sat next to him. After a few moments Roy spoke up.

“I think congratulations are in order.”

Alphonse turned to look at the man. “Pardon, sir?” Roy smiled a little up at him.

“You scored higher than your brother on the written exam - and you finished all the questions. I think there were only three other candidates who even managed to finish the exam this session.”

Alphonse ducked his head bashfully. “Thank you, Colonel… but, sir, why are you telling me?”

Roy threw him an arch look. “You’re talented - and you’re more than capable of keeping up with your brother. I believe you already know that, Alphonse.”

“I just…” the boy sighed and looked down at his gauntlets resting on his lap. “When my brother gets his license, there are going to be places he’ll have to go, and I won’t be able to go with him…” Al pressed his palms together.

Roy’s expression softened - when, not if. While he didn’t disagree, the amount of faith in his older brother’s ability was endearing.

“There are places that, as an alchemist for the military, I am not welcome.” Roy began quietly. “And there are people who will always be wary, or cautious - or uncomfortable - around an officer. They’re right to be, of course.” Al looked back up as he spoke.

“You, on the other hand, don’t have that problem. And… how old are you, Alphonse?”

“Um, I just turned eleven, sir.”

Roy cringed inwardly and tried not to let any distress slip onto his face. Oh for the love of - he was going straight to hell - one-way ticket, stamped, with a hand basket and all.

“Well - happy birthday, then. Now, in all that time has your brother ever left you behind?”

Al was quiet a moment, before he finally snorted and said exasperatedly, “No, I guess not, Colonel.”

Roy’s mouth curled into an understanding smile. “Let me guess, he wouldn’t step off, even when you’d nearly broken his nose?”

Alphonse turned fully to look at him, astonished. “How did you -”

“You’re not the only younger brother, Mr. Elric.” Roy said wryly.

Alphonse laughed, his usual good cheer restored.

“Al!” They turned together to look over the back of the bench. Edward was hurrying down the steps of the building, his expression full of relief, while Maes followed behind at a more sedate pace. The Major waved genially to Roy and Al as they stood up to meet them.

“We’d wondered where you’d got to Roy.” Maes said without preamble.

“Al, are you alright?” Edward eyed the Colonel suspiciously. “He’s not being weird, is he?”

Roy sputtered. “I beg your pardon?”

Al groaned. “ _Ed_ , the only one being weird is you - I’m fine. How did your interview go?”

Roy went ignored by the boys as they chattered a bit, but Maes caught his eye and smiled thinly.

Lovely. They were going to have a chat later. The Major clapped his hands together to get the Elric’s attention.

“Now that we’re all together and this testing nonsense is over for the day, how about all of you come home with me for a proper meal? Gracia is doing extra for dinner tonight, and Harry will be very excited to have you ‘round!” Maes beamed at them all and turned to the boys to explain. He whipped out his billfold and pulled out several photos to pass to each of the brothers. “My son - he’s six - and my lovely wife! Harry will be very enthusiastic I’m afraid, and my lady love will surely want to feed you up! I hope you won’t mind?”

Edward stuttered a bit in surprise. “You want us to come too?”

Quick as a snake, Maes hooked one arm around each boy and began leading them down the sidewalk towards his home, talking all the while.

“Of course! It’s your first visit to Central - Roy’s told me. We’re going to give you the Official Hughes Family Welcome! Dinner’s just the start. Come along…”

Roy ambled along behind as Maes overwhelmed the poor boys with pictures and pointed out different landmarks of interest the entire seven block walk.

~~~~~~~

Maes came up behind him, a bottle in one hand and two tumblers in the other. Roy slipped even further down into the loveseat - slouching, with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. After introducing the Elrics to the rest of the small Hughes family, Gracia had shooed everyone out of the kitchen, setting the boys loose on the house. Roy and Maes had shut themselves away in the small office, ostensibly to stay out from under foot. 

Maes lifted an eyebrow at his friend’s behavior.

“Not sure if you deserve the good stuff today, Roy. You know Gracia’s house rule about pouting.”

Roy snorted.

“I’m already going to burn in hell, Maes.” He waved a negligent hand in the man’s general direction. “That’s just an accelerant. It’ll make me burn faster, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Maes cuffed his friend’s head none too gently with one elbow as he came around to sit.

“Like I said - not sure you deserve it. Budge over, you’re taking up my whole sofa.”

Roy cracked open one eye to glare.

“It’s a loveseat, not a sofa.”

“Well, I’d _love_ it if you’d move your seat, you big lump.”

Roy did pout at that. He obliged though, and Maes set down the bottle and tumblers on the desk in front of them; he settled gingerly on the edge of the cushion and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Roy sighed and opened his eyes again, and sat up properly.

“You’re angry with me.”

Maes took off his glasses and turned them between his hands, staring down at his frames and saying nothing for a few moments. He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat suddenly, tossed the glasses gently onto the desk as well and turned his sharp green gaze onto Roy.

“You bloody well _bet_ I’m angry.” His voice was low and feeling. “They’re _kids_ , Roy. I know Riza said they were kids, but _Jesus_. I’m trying to understand here, I really am, but what were you _thinking_?!”

Roy made no reply. What could he say to that? He hadn’t been thinking. Maes swore into the silence.

“I knew it - just opened your big mouth, didn’t you? See - this is why you don’t work in intelligence-”

“ _Five. Years_. That’s how long they’ve been popping up on the Eastern State recruitment rosters. Edward and Alphonse Elric started showing up as soon as their mother died - nearly to the day.” Roy hissed back. “I know. _I checked_. You do know what that means, don’t you? Somehow, they met all the conditions required to grant a minor adult status in this damned country!”

Roy held up one hand and ticked off the points on his fingers.

“Property - they have a homestead, house and all. Money - I can only assume their mother left them enough to survive, because she never had any bank records to speak of. Citizenship. And of course, there’s no adult registered anywhere in Amestris as a relative who could take them in. Elric was their mother’s maiden name - she never registered another parent on the boy’s birth certificates, so of _course_ there’s no one to turn to on that end. Oh - and in Edward’s case, at least - a dependent.”

Maes grew sour. “And of course there’s no age limit - all the more easy for some general or other to take advantage of them, I know…”

Roy scrubbed at his face with his hands.

“But,” Maes interrupted hopefully, “Surely, you asked the boys if there was anyone - maybe their father was foreign?”

Roy sighed. “To quote Edward: ‘That useless bastard left and I hope he’s ass-up in a ditch’… Alphonse only said their father’s name was ‘Hohenheim’, and that it was his books that they began learning from initially. I’ve heard of an alchemist by that name, but it was quite some time ago - otherwise, I haven’t had any luck, but you’re welcomed to try.”

The Major deflated, but wrote the name down on a spare bit of paper to look into later on.

“So,” Roy continued, “In five years, these two kids concoct a plan to revive their mother. They manage to activate their array, possibly coming closer to success than any other alchemist I know of, living or dead - _and_ they survive. Oh - and they have been stuck in a border town barely large enough to merit a train station the whole time, by the way, mustn’t forget that.”

“You’re such a city boy. Good sunshine and a few cows and chickens never did anyone any harm.” Maes complained.

Roy snorted. “You weren’t there - there’s nothing but sheep and fields for leagues at a stretch. Now, they nearly did themselves in while they _did_ it, mind - and the attempt _didn’t work._ But fuck… When I was ten years old I was trying to find ways to knick my sister’s pocket change so I could buy comics at the paper stand! Not unintentionally getting myself on secret government recruitment lists and trying to illegally _raise the dead_!”

Maes chuckled darkly. “Some flaming prodigy you are, hey?” Roy smacked his friend on the shoulder for that, but his expression was serious.

“That’s the point though - I am a prodigy. Those boys are something else entirely. What I did in Ishval’s bad enough - can you imagine what one of the brass might come up with if they get their claws into even one of the Elrics? Or both? If they threatened one with the life of the other?”

Maes was incredulous. “You can’t really think this is the best way to protect them from all that? To bring them in to the beast’s lair in order to hide them?”

Roy groaned in frustration.

“Bring them into the dubious arms of the military myself, or leave them broken in the countryside for some other unscrupulous officer to find - I can’t look at myself in the mirror either way. Might as well make it easier to keep an eye on them.”

“We could send them _away_ , Roy. You know that.” Maes admonished sharply.

Roy threw up his hands. “Oh yes, very good - and just where were you planning on sending them off to, Maes?” Roy hissed furiously. “To England, where they’d be carted off to that nightmare prison? They’d be nabbed for dark magic as soon as they put one toe on British soil, and that’s just for the crime of Alphonse’s _existence_. Or - maybe you’d have that we pack them off to Germany, perhaps? Or France? It’s not as if the ICW is on the lookout for ‘curiosities’ after some madman set his horde of flesh-eating corpses loose on the Continent in the middle of a war!” Roy’s voice had risen, and he’d stood and begun to pace in the narrow space between the desk and loveseat during his tirade.

Maes waved his hand at Roy to keep his voice down.

“Shhhhhhh - yes, _alright_. Alright. I get your point - come back here.” He finally leaned forward to open the bottle and pour out a finger in each glass while Roy sat back down and put his face in his hands. He elbowed Roy until the man sat up, passed one tumbler to him and picked up the other, though he didn’t drink yet.

“Right then. So - your plan is to what? Play minder for a few years until the boys can sort themselves out? Or unless the entire Amestrian government is, ah, favorably restructured?”

Roy nodded morosely. “That’s the plan.” He tipped his glass briefly in Maes’ direction. “Cheers.” Just as Roy began to swallow, a loud crash echoed from the back of the house. Maes thumped him on the back as he sputtered and wheezed, tears streaming out of the corners of his eyes. Edward’s voice thundered in the air as he shouted.

“ ** _Come back here, you brat!_** ”

The men tripped over one another trying to hurry out of the narrow office. Maes banged his knees trying to snatch his glasses off of the desk as they disentangled themselves. Roy, still a bit red-faced, finally cleared his throat and regained his footing and they hurried together down the hall and to the kitchen at the back of the home. Gracia looked up, serene despite all the commotion, from where she was stirring something that smelled divine in one of the pots on the cooktop. She smiled blithely at Roy and her husband and pointed at the back door.

“I told the boys to go outside a while ago now - do remind them that dinner will be ready in thirty, won’t you?”

“Of course, Gracia.” Roy smiled a bit helplessly. “Everything is alright, then? Nothing broken I hope?” She laughed and waved them both away even as Maes came up to buss her cheek and envelop her in a hug.

“Go on, see for yourselves - they’re having a ball.”

“Darling, are you sure you should be on your feet? If nothing’s wrong, why don’t you have a sit and a cup of tea, I can finish up instead -”

“ _Maes_ , I’m barely five months along, I’m not an invalid -”

Roy tuned out the couple’s affectionate fussing and stepped out into the backyard. The boys were entertaining themselves with a snowball fight. Harry was clinging to Alphonse’s neck and shoulders like a monkey, laughing delightedly as they raced around the snowy yard together. Edward was wearing a heavy dusting of snow on his head and shoulders and was chasing the other two boys down. Though he was screaming threats and throwing snowballs rather more aggressively than Roy thought was advisable, his eyes were bright and lively, rather than murderous. It was a relief - he’d wondered if the brothers were even capable of connecting with other children. Here they were though, playing with a little boy half their age, without being condescending.

Only…

“Roy.” Maes put his chin on the Colonel’s shoulder, the better to observe the scene playing out in his backyard.

“Maes.” Roy replied mildly.

“There’s snow in my yard, Roy.”

“Looks like it.” Roy nodded.

“It’s September.” Maes stated flatly.

“Last I checked, yes.” Roy looked over as Maes came forward to stand next to his shoulder and eyed the tumbler still clutched in the man’s hand. He snatched it, swallowed down the finger-full of whiskey over Maes’ indignant protests and clapped his friend on the shoulder with one hand.

“I’m going to have a nap on that loveseat. Wake me when dinner’s ready?” Roy turned to go back into the house.

“Hey! Come back here, you tit -”

“Ooh, Papa said a bad word! Al, we have to get him!” Raucous laughter, the satisfying ‘thump’ of snowballs pelting a target, and Maes’ indignant cry of “Roy, come back here! This is your fault!” followed him back to the small office.

 

## ~*~

Nothing good has _ever_ been portended by an Elric who uttered ‘um’. That is a stone cold fact that Roy will argue viciously in favor of with his dying breath. If an Elric is ever heard uttering ‘um’, ‘uh oh’, or ‘whoops’, the best solution is to evacuate the area immediately - nine times out of ten. He has an entire filing cabinet filled with documented, empirical evidence: from the destruction and creative reconstruction of entire city blocks, to the inability of his sofa cushions to maintain one consistent color for longer than sixty-four hours at a stretch.

Before either brother attempts to answer him properly though, little Nina, who is still clutching Edward’s cloak around herself like a shield, gives a dreadful, wet sneeze. She looks more miserable and pitiable with every passing second. Roy automatically digs a clean handkerchief out of one pocket, shakes it out, and cautiously offers it to Ed, rather than directly to the distressed child - he has no desire to spook her further.

While Ed attempts to wipe the girl’s face and dry her eyes, Al asks, “Colonel, do you have the things for hot chocolate?”

There is a certain flavor of emotional maturity that comes with being a younger sibling. Roy knows, what with having so many sisters ahead of him. Which is why, generally, he doesn’t trust Alphonse Elric further than he can throw him. For now though, the well-meaning conversational prodding is appreciated. He nods and smiles kindly for the child.

“I’m sure something can be managed.” He agrees.

Al then turns to crouch down by the edge of the sofa, speaking softly.

“Nina? Would you like a hot chocolate? Brother’s are very good.”

Ed squeezes her shoulders in a reassuring, one-armed hug when she looks up to him, unsure.

“How about it? You can sit tight here with Al. Me and the Colonel -” Ed nods in Roy’s direction, “- can go and make everyone a cup.” Her face pales a bit at the mere mention of them leaving the sitting room, but Edward continues to reassure her with more patience than Roy has seen him dedicate to anything save a book.

“It’s just a couple rooms over - we won’t be going anywhere. Right, Mustang?”

Roy softens his expression, offering the shy little thing all the gentle reassurance he can muster. He crouches down as well - Roy’s knees do _not_ crack, thank you - and points towards the hallway.

“My kitchen is right down the hall. Just through there, do you see that bit of candlelight?” The girl nods slowly. “That’s where we’ll be. Now,” Roy puts on his best serious business expression, “I’m not sure what’s happened -” He pointedly eyes each of the boys over the top of Nina’s head, “- but _nothing_ is going to get through that front door tonight unless I open it. And I am not going to open it until I know it’s safe.” Roy places his hand over his heart and solemnly affirms, “That’s a promise.” The hairs on the back of his neck tickle as Roy is struck, suddenly, by the return of that unnerving sensation of watchful eyes - it is there and gone within a moment though, and no one else in the room seems to have taken notice.

That is… distressing. 

“You see?” Ed smiles reassuringly down at Nina, still cuddling her close. “So - you’ll stay here and keep Al company. It’s probably going to take us a little while to find everything and make enough hot chocolate for everyone, but I bet Al can find you some stories to read together while you’re waiting if you want, yeah?”

After a few moments in which Roy and the boys all hold their collective breath, Nina nods, face still pressed into Edward’s chest, before finally drawing away, mumbling a subdued “‘kay.” When Al holds out a hand to her though, she takes it without hesitation. He gently guides her towards the shelf of storybooks kept for when the Hughes children visit, trailing the cloak and blanket behind her.

Roy stands back up - definitely not with cracking knees - and motions for Edward to follow him to the kitchen. Of course, Edward overtakes him down the hallway. It’s fine - Roy takes the opportunity to double check the locks on his front door just in case. The teenager has already begun digging through the pantry shelves with the ease of long familiarity by the time Roy steps into the room. Taking out his wand for the first time that evening, the Colonel erects a one-way silencing charm to keep Nina from overhearing anything she shouldn’t.

Turning back, arms crossed over his chest and wand dangling casually from the fingertips of his ungloved hand, Roy quietly observes Ed as he roots through various cabinets, now and again tossing items onto the counter by the cooker in an increasingly haphazard manner. Two pots, several bars of chocolate, a sack of sugar, the jar of cinnamon bark, and several measuring implements are all unceremoniously dumped in a growing pile on the countertop.

When, instead of turning around to explain just what is going on, Edward moves to the icebox and yanks the door open to continue his search, Roy has to refrain from tapping his foot. He shifts around bottles and packets aimlessly; the handle of the door creaks beneath his tightening grip.

This is shaping up to be one of those teeth-pulling conversations that Roy hates. He clears his throat.

“I bought milk two days ago. It’s on the left side, bottom shelf, in the front. It shouldn’t be that hard to spot at eye level, surely?”

Ed’s back stiffens, but he still says nothing - that, more than anything else so far tonight, puts Roy’s hackles up. Even in the middle of a fight, the kid usually takes exception to any jab - real or perceived - about his stature. His subordinate finally straightens up, squaring his shoulders and shutting the door firmly as he turns to face Roy, bottle of milk in hand. Ed looks green; the expression on his face is an unsettling mix of fury and nausea. Roy begins to pale himself, and wonders that Ed was able to maintain his composure long enough to give comfort to anyone.

“Dear god, how long do we have before whatever-it-is comes pounding down my door?”

Edward actually looks nonplussed for a moment, blinking up at his fretful boss before his expression darkens again.

“No one’s coming here.” He growls.

“What. Happened.” Roy demands tightly.

Ed’s laugh is dreadful - low and small and a bit hysterical. His voice wavers, losing any earlier hint of threat as he rambles.

“You didn’t know, right? You - you couldn’t - you _wouldn’t_ have sent us there if you… He used his _wife_ , Roy! And then he nearly used Nina too! What’s even the _point_ , then?!” Edward’s shoulders begin to shake, and he grips the bottle of milk with both hands like a drowning man would clutch a life preserver.

“He was about to do it - he would have done it to Nina even though we were right upstairs! He nearly got away with it, too - he hurt his own _kid_. If… if we hadn’t gone down there, he would’ve…” Roy takes the bottle from Ed before the glass shatters in his hands. The last thing they need is an _actual_ bloody disaster to clean up as well. He sets the bottle on the counter by the pile, takes the teen firmly by the shoulders, and steers him towards a chair at the kitchen table. He pulls out a second chair and turns it around to face Ed, who’s finally seated himself.

“Alright,” Roy says, doing his level best to maintain a calm, even tone. “You’re going to talk to me as if we’re at the office. This is just another report, Fullmetal.” Edward needs as much structure as Roy can reasonably provide him - he skimmed a look at some of those books on Maes’ shelf when the man wasn’t looking, so he knows that much at least. That, and he is absolutely not going to question the terrified little girl in the other room. Ed nods his assent.

“Just… don’t leave anything out, if you please.” Roy sighs. “Now - I’ll ask again. What happened?”

Edward swallows and - finally, with some effort - visibly calms himself. Summoning a degree of composure for which Roy is unspeakably proud, he tells his C.O. everything, beginning with Roy’s introductions between Tucker and the Elrics.

 

## ~*~

It was a cool evening at the end of September - not quite the full-blown chill of fall, but the dry quality of the air suggested a change in seasons any day now. Eastern Amestris received more sun than most of the rest of the country. The Eastern State also lacked the humidity that permeated the air in Western Amestris (and occasionally Central, when the winds coming over the Western Sea were strong enough). If nothing else, Roy enjoyed East City’s milder weather, surrounded as it was on all sides by idyllic farmland. The rains were heavy but quick, there was almost never any snow, and since the air tended towards dry, there wasn’t that bone aching chill felt in the wetter parts up north.

Weeks of worry over the Elrics, and now Roy finally had a weekend all to himself. Good Lord, Edward was going to give him gray hair, he just knew it - from which parent did the genetic predisposition for waving a spear at the Führer come, anyway?

No matter. He cheerfully set that question aside for Monday. For now, it was a pleasant Friday evening, he’d finished work early for once, and the exhausted Colonel was determined to enjoy the peace and quiet of having his home all to himself now that the exams were done with. In fact…

Roy stood up from the sofa in the sitting room, set the book he hadn’t been reading down on the coffee table, and went to fetch his keys and wallet. He’d been considering what to make for dinner, but found the idea of meandering down the street to one of the nearby cafés while the weather was so pleasant immensely more appealing.

When he opened his front door to leave however, he nearly walked into someone’s fist.

The Elrics and their suitcase were shifting awkwardly on his front steps.

Again.

Quite suddenly, the echo of his Mother’s voice rang ominously between his ears.

_‘It’s not a stray if you feed it, Royboy…’_

Edward’s hand, which had been poised to knock at the level of Roy’s nose, lowered. The kid’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Good evening, Colonel!” Alphonse chirped politely. Edward deigned to offer a tired wave.

“‘lo.” He grunted.

Roy blinked bemusedly back, but lifted his hand in greeting.

“Ah, hello…” He replied, confused.

“Well?” Edward finally asked after they’d stood around awkwardly a beat too long. The boy looked pinched and worn out after his first day.

“Well what?” Roy was missing something, and felt increasingly out of his depth.

“Are you going to let us in now…? Or do you expect me’n Al to pitch a tent on your front steps tonight?” Edward drawled sarcastically. His expression was beginning to plummet from exhaustion and annoyance and into true frustration.

Roy was trying - and failing - not to gape unattractively. Edward Elric in particular, struck him as the type of personality who immediately dismissed anyone as useless who made a fool of themselves in front of him.

Quite like Riza, actually (unfortunately).

“…what?”

Also like Riza - Edward had next to no patience for Roy’s (very few) fumbles.He jerkily unwound the clasp on a file packet he’d been toting beneath one arm, grumbling under his breath all the while. The boy finally freed one stack of the official-looking bundle of paperwork and thrust it roughly at Roy’s chest. The documents were stapled together and arranged so that the housing forms were displayed on the top for perusal.

Edward stood in front of him, hands shoved in his pockets and not looking at the man. Alphonse shifted nervously behind his brother, shoulders hunching inward and trying not to twist his gauntlets too noisily. Roy scanned the legalese with narrowed eyes. He remembered, distinctly, having reviewed _all_ of the papers and requisition forms pertaining to the newly minted Fullmetal Alchemist. Quite closely. More than once, even.

He’d approved officer’s quarters in the barracks - not much to look at, but they would afford the boys a measure of privacy, and Alphonse would be permitted to reside there with his brother as a family dependent. Roy had _specifically_ put in a request for a bunkbed and extra desk so that Alphonse felt less like an intruder. There was no need for the boy to have to share absolutely everything with his older brother if he didn’t wish to. Roy had gotten the impression that offering Al his own room to use had been an unexpected luxury.

Even with the younger Elric’s inclusion, none of these accommodations were outside of what could reasonably be afforded a newly commissioned Major and State Alchemist. The Colonel had not expected his proposed arrangements to be denied. And they hadn’t been. There, just above his signature, was the stamp of approval and signatures from the Bursar in Logistics and the Brigadier General who managed the department.

On a document which granted Edward Elric and his dependent off-site accommodations.

At Roy’s personal address.

_Which was also filled out in Roy’s own handwriting_.

This was, without a doubt, all Maes and Riza’s doing. Somehow, some way - though he likely would never prove it. He was absolutely positive. Not only were the two of them still displeased with the appointment of the military’s youngest State Alchemist, they were now colluding against him. At this point, Roy couldn’t even summon anything beyond mild resentment over their heavy-handed treachery - he deserved it. They were sending a message: _‘You wanted them, now you’ve got them. Congratulations.’_

Well _fine._ Fine - message received, loud and clear-

“Look -” Edward interrupted Roy’s spiraling thoughts. He blinked and peered back at the boys from over the sheaf of papers he’d been glaring down at. “- we’ll just find a hotel or something, alright? We don’t want to impose if it’s a problem.”

Roy looked at the boys properly. Edward’s posture was stiff and angry. He bore the look of someone trying to muster their dignity and temper in spite of disappointment - just then, he looked less like a twelve year old boy and more like an affronted alleycat. Alphonse didn’t seem able to conceal his upset - the steel plating of his armor ground down on itself as he wilted, and the luminescence of his eyes dimmed in the most crestfallen manner… Roy had not seen anyone look so dejected since he’d refused to return an undeveloped roll of film from one of Maes’ cameras. The decision was made before he could properly articulate it to himself in his own mind.

“I didn’t expect you so early!” He blurted lamely.

Roy’s mouth was developing a dreadful habit of running ahead of its’ own accord. That was an awful, obvious lie. It was painfully clear, what with all the initial confusion of the last few minutes, that he’d had no inkling of the arrangement at all. Oh well. Roy cleared his throat and tried again.

“I still need to pick up groceries for dinner. I was just on the way out to do that, sorry. Here - come in. Please.” Roy moved backwards into the hall and ushered the boys into the home for a second time. They stepped nervously over the threshold, still unsure of their welcome. Roy smiled a bit to put them at ease, and held the stack of papers back out to his new employee - and new boarder, apparently.

“Keep those safe somewhere. I hope the same rooms from your earlier stay are still suitable?”

The relief wafting off of the brothers as they finally began to relax and smile tentatively back was palpable. Roy was a bit surprised to feel the sudden loosening of tension in himself, as well.

Right then. His nephew usually came for a visit one or two weekends out of the month. Entertaining an energetic six year old boy was sure to be more taxing on his time and energy than housing a pair of nearly-teenagers. The boys were already self-sufficient and thus far had proved to be relatively polite houseguests. They would be out of town either on assignment or researching in the stacks of some dusty library more than half the time as it was.

Edward paused on the staircase and looked back down at Roy.

“So what’s for dinner?”

How difficult could this venture be?


	3. A Mouse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon-typical violence is cited in the tags for a reason. While not graphic, this chapter makes mention of abusive parenting and pet harm (Tucker) so please keep that in mind as you read.

# Bragging Rights and Other Stories

 

 

 

## The Value of Perspective

 

 

 

By the time Edward finishes his report, Roy is green in the face as well.

 

“He was just talking to her - or at her, anyway - saying how everything would be okay in the end. He was so _sure_ … sounded so matter-of-fact about how life was going to be easier on them after. It was like he was explaining why the sky was blue.” Ed swallows, grimacing at the memory.

 

“He promised they’d _play_ later, if she wanted - and Nina was slumped there the whole time. I don’t think… I hope - I _hope_ she didn’t actually hear him? I’m not sure what he gave her exactly. It can’t be too strong, otherwise the chemicals in the sedative might have interfered with the transmutation, but she’s so small. A sip off of a mild draft would be enough to make her drowsy…” He puts in thoughtfully.

 

Roy nods silently for him to continue even as Ed shakes himself out of his internal musings.

 

“Anyway; Nina was passed out in the middle of the array with the dog, bleeding out. We came in, me and Al, and I went to pull Nina out while Al restrained Tucker.”

 

The teenager slumps dejectedly in his chair.

 

“I closed up the cut on her arm, but it’s probably gonna scar. Healing charms really aren’t my best work, and it was pretty deep to begin with, so I couldn’t just bind it up and wait. I -” He swallows, looking pained, “There wasn’t anything I could do for Alexander - the dog, sorry. Nina’s gonna be pretty upset when she finds out he’s gone.”

 

They both grimace at that, and Roy redirects the conversation.

 

“Where is Shou Tucker right now?” Roy asks. Ed sucks angrily on the inside of his cheek. His eyes meet Roy’s, hard and furious.

 

“Bastard’s still at the house.” He answers sullenly. “We knocked him out and tied him up in the lab. He won’t be waking up for a while.”

 

The Colonel nods once more and leans back in his chair, attempting to sort out how best to handle this debacle from here on. Exhausted, Ed folds his arms on the table top to rest his chin. He doesn’t bother to lift his head when his C.O. speaks again, only glances tiredly up at the man through his bangs.

 

“Why did you come here, to the house? Instead of calling command or the M.P.’s?” Heasks, curious.

 

Edward blinks up at him, truly bewildered by the question, and actually sits up properly to answer him.

 

“Well, because they could’ve taken Nina away to who only _knows_ where. ‘Sides, it’s safe here…” Roy does not miss the flicker of aureate gaze that glances towards the back door of the kitchen, then to the single lit candle in the window next to it, before coming to rest again on the Colonel. He sets aside any thoughts on that for later, however.

 

“And anyways,” Ed continues, “You’re good about keeping people who should be safe out of things, you know? And you still get shit done. Eventually.”

 

Roy tries not to flinch at that, and determinedly puts aside any thoughts about exactly who and how many people he wishes he’d ‘kept out of things’ for later as well. Instead he snorts.

 

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Roy even appreciates the not-quite compliment. Even if Edward’s tone suggests that the man is a moron for not already knowing this. On to the next pressing question.

 

“How did you come to be suspicious of Tucker anyway? What tipped you off?”

 

Ed stiffens in his chair and looks off to the side, suddenly uncomfortable.

 

“It’s stupid. You’re gonna laugh.” He mutters, still not looking at his C.O.

 

Roy attempts to catch Ed’s eye; failing that, he sighs.

 

“You kidnapped a little girl to safety when there likely would have been no chance of saving her in time otherwise.” He points out solemnly. “My disbelief is officially suspended for the moment. I promise not to laugh, no matter how absurd your reasoning sounds.” He folds his hands together on the table and leans forward.

 

Edward ducks his head a bit, fringe slipping down over his eyes as he mumbles out a reply so indistinct even Alphonse would be hard-pressed to make heads or tails of it. Roy glares.

 

“You _know_ it doesn’t count when I can’t even hear you.”

 

Ed slumps in his chair and crosses his arms as he continues to avoid direct eye contact. He does speak up, though.

 

“I saw something in his eyes.”

 

Roy does blink at the admission, but doesn’t laugh.

 

“How do you mean? Can you describe what you saw?” His tone bears no trace of humor, only professional curiosity. When Ed finally peers up at the man, squinting suspiciously at his face, he finds nothing there that would set off his ire. No hint of disbelief or smug amusement crosses the Colonel’s features. He answers carefully, still attempting to make sense of the event himself.

 

“Just… for a moment, a day ago. It was odd - we made eye contact and suddenly there was something in it? Not thoughts or really even images, but…” The teenager begins to gnaw on his thumb while considering his words, and his tone becomes distant.

 

“The feeling snapped into place suddenly, but was gone again as fast. Everything felt grey. It was… like dust slipping between my fingers: I felt like everything was suddenly out of my control. My mouth was full of ash and I was going to choke on it. Tucker was hollow and cold. Then everything was normal again when the bastard looked away.” Ed trailed off once more, still ruminating.

 

“I don’t think he noticed when,” he waved his hand for lack of description, “ _whatever-that-was_ , happened. I think he would have been visibly angry otherwise, but after, we didn’t really see him around the house for the rest of the day. And then when it was starting to get close to dinner and we didn’t see Nina or Alexander around either, we started to look.” Ed shrugs.

 

Roy tilts his head back as he considers his subordinate’s story, absently gazing at the exposed beams of the kitchen ceiling.

 

“Huh.”

 

“What d’you mean, ‘huh’?” Ed asks sharply.

 

“I think… I have an idea, actually. I’ll need to check one or two sources first to be sure though.” He looks Edward in the eye. “For now, keep what you’ve told me to yourself. Or between yourself and your brother, if you must. I believe I have an answer, however. We’ll come back to that at a later time when I’m certain.” Roy’s thoughts are settled on a very specific, not entirely legal, tome that is locked away in a private cache beneath the floorboards of his study. Whether or not he really wants to be the poor sod who elects to teach that particular arte to Edward Elric, of all people… If he’s right though, the brat will require basic instruction - if only to prevent the stray thoughts of other people from becoming intrusive in the future.

 

Perhaps Albus can be roped into teaching him instead. Well - another problem, another day. For now, he would rather address the last (and to Roy’s mind, the most glaring) issue.

 

“You still haven’t told me everything, Edward.”

 

Ed’s expression, which was already warring between skepticism and exasperation at not getting more of an explanation, blossoms into mulishness.

 

“What the hell am I supposed to have left out, exactly? I’ve **told** you everything that happened!”

 

Lips pursed, Roy taps one finger against the corner of his own left eye, staring at Ed pointedly.

 

“The black eye, Edward. How did you come by that?”

 

The teenager blinks bemusedly back at his C.O.

 

“What?” He raises the heel of his flesh and blood hand and gingerly presses it against the tender bruising. Ed winces, looking genuinely surprised at his own discomfort.

 

“Huh,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Roy, “Tucker _did_ start throwing shit at me before Al grabbed him. I didn’t think the asshole clocked me that hard.” He shrugs, wholly unconcerned over the matter. “Oh well. How bad’s it look, anyway?”

 

Roy’s lips are pinched so tightly together they’ve gone white. He cannot say whether in disapproval of the boy’s lack of regard or with Tucker - or because his tongue is just waiting to loose a poorly-timed remark about very short prize fights his brain is sensible enough to reign in. In the end all that escapes him is a huff of exasperated laughter. Running one hand through his disheveled hair, the man turns halfway around in his seat, murmurs a spell as he twists his wand in a summoning gesture, and finally replies.

 

“It looks like that eye should hurt a fair bit more than it apparently does to you. Honestly - how you are able to do more than squint out of that eye right now is beyond me.”

 

Ed only smirks tiredly and shrugs again. A squat little jar sails into the kitchen; Roy catches it and immediately slides it across the table to his wayward charge.

 

“Go ahead and dab that on, then. It’ll bring down the swelling a bit - there’s no need to frighten that poor girl with your dreadful shiner in the morning.”

 

Ed opens the jar and his nose wrinkles as he inhales the sharp, astringent odor. Even so, a wistful smile flits at the corner of his mouth while examining the green paste.

 

“Guess bruise balm’s the same wherever you go, huh?” He continues to stare into the jar cupped between his palms. Roy’s brow ticks up in irritation when it seems as if Ed is going to continue woolgathering and eventually he clears his throat. Loudly.

 

“Yes, well. Be that as it may - even you, Edward, cannot spread bruise balm on your face just by staring at it. Stop dawdling.”

 

Ed’s eyes flicker up briefly before finding his hands again with interest. He huffs out a breath.

 

“You sound like Mum, you know?” He bites his lip, curling in on himself a bit. “Roy…” Ed begins slowly, “The whole time we were bringing Nina back ho- _here_ , with us, I thought ‘what if?’. What if - if we hadn’t gotten there in time? Hadn’t realized something was wrong? If he’d done the transmutation - I just. I’ve been wondering, is all. I don’t know _what_ I would’ve done if he _had_ succeeded, ‘ya know?” Ed looks sick with the admission.

 

“And that’s just _so wrong_ , but what if I couldn’t just let it be? I mean - how could I not want to - to help her?! But thinking about it, I don’t know how long that would have taken, and… yeah. Anyway.” Ed looks Roy in the eyes suddenly, pale and desolate but determined regardless.

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said some of the things I did. Before. S’all.” He shrugs uncomfortably and looks away after saying his piece, still fumbling with that bloody jar. All this teenaged shrugging would make Roy despair if he didn’t think the boy would grow out of it some day (a day which cannot come too soon). He’s sure he wasn’t so prone to shrugging at that age, but the one time he brought the point up to Riza was also the one time she’d laughed herself out of the office. He hasn’t made mention of it since. Roy breathes out slowly through his nose.

 

“Well,” he begins, suddenly dragging his own chair closer to Edward, “You weren’t exactly _wrong_ , at the time. But - thank you, all the same. Now -” he reaches over and plucks the jar out from between Ed’s fiddling fingers. “ _Give me_ ** _that_**. Look up at the ceiling, please. I want to apply this properly.”

 

 

Ed makes a disgruntled noise of surprise, but tilts his head back obligingly enough. Roy can hear the eye roll in his voice though as he works the paste gently into the bruise.

 

“I _can_ put that stuff on myself, you know.”

 

“You’re slower than a turtle.” Roy quips genially. “If I’d waited for you to put it on yourself your eye would have healed on its’ own before you ever twitched your fingers.”

 

Ed grumbles a bit more, but aside from wrinkling his nose a bit at the smell, he is patient and still as Roy’s hand continues to work the cool balm around the eye and up one side of the teenager’s cheek and nose.

 

“We can never know how hypotheticals will turn out.” Roy remarks casually as he works. “That’s why theoretical work is so frustrating, of course. Having you and Alphonse under my roof for some length of time, I think I can safely say that Shou Tucker’s apparent misdeeds are not either you or your brother’s brand of idiocy.”

 

He pulls his hand away, finishing just as Ed sits forward, startled. Roy ignores Edward’s wide-eyed look as he sets the re-capped jar on the table and stands to wash his hands off at the sink.

 

“I trust you can keep from rubbing at your face for the next ten minutes?” He calls over one shoulder while running the faucet. Ed snorts.

 

“Jeez, what are you, some kind of medium now? Gonna keep channeling my mother from beyond the gate for the rest of the night then?”

 

Roy smirks back, drying his hands on an old tea towel slung over the worn side of the sink basin that’s seen better days.

 

“Mind your manners, young man.”

 

Edward sticks his tongue out in lieu of reply. Upon glancing at the clock on the wall the Colonel’s smirk evaporates in favor of a wince. Not only is it late, but nearly an hour has passed since they came into the kitchen for their conversation.

 

“You should make that hot chocolate you promised. It’s long overdue.” He dispells the silencing charm he’d thrown up earlier with a sharp flick of his wand. Edward swears to himself after catching sight of the time as well, striding over to the cooker and the pile of supplies and ingredients he’d abandoned on the counter.

 

“I have some phone calls to make. You go back to the sitting room and keep the child occupied. I want the two of you to stay with Nina even after I’ve left for the office. There’s a doctor willing to make house calls that I trust; I’ll have him over to take a look at the girl.”

 

Edward doesn’t turn from the cooker as he asks quietly, “What are you going to do with Nina?”

 

“Not giving her back to that mad idiot for damn certain…” Roy mutters lowly to himself. Louder, he replies, “She’s safe here, as you yourself pointed out. I mean it, though - none of you is to set one foot outside this house after I leave for the day. Consider this your next assignment detail: Do not let anyone in who isn’t from my office or isn’t someone you know is already welcome, like Maes.”

 

Edward makes a noise of frustration as he turns off the hob and pours scalded milk over the chocolate to melt. He looks over at Roy with an irritated glare.

 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it you bastard.”

 

Roy sighs tiredly.

 

“I do know what you meant. But other than keeping her away from her father in the short-term, I’m not sure what I can promise. Should the worst occur, I have an acquaintance outside of Amestris that I will see her safely to.” Roy puts in quietly, nodding to himself.

 

“Yes. Yes I can promise _that_ , at least. If it comes to it.”

 

Edward examines the man’s expression carefully. He turns back to the counter to prepare a tray for the drinks.

 

“That’s alright then.”

 

**~*~**

 

 

As it turned out, the care and keeping of two extremely intelligent, extremely _clever_ , budding teenagers required more mental fortitude than Roy had anticipated.

 

If not for Gracia, whom Roy had grown quite fond of (the woman sported a very dry sense of humor and, if nothing else, his admiration for her reservoir of patience grew by the day), he would have wished on Maes Hughes the return of each and every explosion, ‘oops’, and ‘Brother, no!’ the day Harry turned eleven.

 

Every. Single One. With interest.

 

Oh - to dream…

 

It wasn’t that the boys were suddenly terrible houseguests; they were still very careful about taking only what they needed or thought they could afford to replace. Roy still noticed small repairs or helpful additions to his home. No. The problem now lay in having to find some sort of common ground between the three of them that wasn’t just work.

 

Roy had, at first, thought that the distant and indirect manner in which they’d interacted before the exams was best. However, trying to be as formal with Edward and Alphonse at home as he was at work only seemed to put all three of them on edge as time passed. Roy had never before felt so stiff and ill at ease in his own home.

 

Not only that, but the increasing crashes, bumps and bangs which emanated (mostly) from the boy’s rooms were slowly overtaking the relative quiet that he had been accustomed to. He’d tried ignoring whatever it was they were working on whenever they were in residence, but doing so eventually backfired the night the Colonel noticed a new fixture in the hallway.

 

“Are either of you going to explain **why** the arms of the chandelier are sculpted like angry bats?” Roy inquired irritably while serving himself some of the chicken curry he’d brought from the shop down the block.

 

Al, who was reading at the kitchen table, looked up at his question and leaned back in his chair to peer down the hallway. Ed didn’t even bother to look up from his place at the table as he answered, eyes still on a sheaf of notes and spearing his own bite of chicken with his fork.

 

“I have no idea what you’re ta-”

 

“ _Brother,_ ” Alphonse hissed over him, “You said you’d **fix** it!”

 

“I assure you, Major Elric, that wrought iron bats leering over any guests in the front hall with _red crystals_ that I only _assume_ are meant to be blood dripping from their mouths is **not original to the brass hardware**.”

 

“Well maybe you should get your eyes checked.” Ed interrupted. “You’re old enough you probably need glasses now, right?” Roy felt a vein in his temple twitch.

 

“ _Brother_!” Al sputtered, scandalized.

 

“May I remind you, Fullmetal, that brass is not _black_ -”

 

“ _Colorblind_ , then. Apologies.” Edward needled back, smirking.

 

The argument nearly devolved into a shouting match until Roy finally hit on a point:

 

“It will frighten Elisia the next time the Hughes’s visit.”

 

Upon a moment’s consideration, Edward grumbled out a grudging admittance (“ ** _fine_**.”) and stomped out of the room. There was a sharp, swift clap and a bit of alchemical light which reflected off of the walls from down the hallway which signaled the quick return of a much more tasteful (“it’s so _boring_.”) chandelier. Roy never did find out what had happened that necessitated a repaired chandelier in the first place. However, these sorts of hiccups were becoming too frequent for anyone’s liking.

 

So it was that after the first unsteady month of cohabitation, the three of them had tacitly agreed on a couple of ground rules.

 

In the spirit of peaceful cooperation, the most important house rule was that, at the end of the day - work _remained_ at work. By mutual agreement, the use of first names (or nicknames, in the case of the boys) at home, and reserving professional titles and formalities for use in public and at work, had smoothed away some of the tension. And, while Edward and Roy himself (though he would not admit to it) were both prone to resentfulness and petty sniping, they could mostly agree to leave their disagreements in the office come five o’clock.

 

In the interest of preserving a modicum of comfort and domestic bliss, the second rule was nearly as important. Experimental science, experimental alchemy, _and_ experimental magic were now relegated to the basement lab. The house was still being paid for after all; therefore, anything that could potentially level the city block on which they resided ought to be done in a properly warded space or not at all, thank you very much.

 

This wasn’t to say that some combination of magic, alchemy or science wasn’t permitted around the rest of the house. Repaired furniture, the occasional levitating book whizzing past, and color-changing charms (the sofa was never going to be the same color as when he’d first purchased it) were regular occurrences. Only the truly unusual, unfamiliar or dangerous was relegated to the basement lab.

 

“Don’t move!”

 

Of course, things which started out in the basement did not always remain there.

 

“He can move if he wants to!” Edward hollered from somewhere near the bedrooms.

 

Roy sighed. The man had been shut up in his study for most of the morning. On a _Saturday_ , no less. He’d just opened the door and had taken perhaps three steps out of it when Alphonse had called out the warning.

 

He cleared his throat to shout out as well, spiteful thoughts of neighbors who might have had a lie in not withstanding.

 

“Can I at least -”

 

“No! Please stay where you are!” Al shouted over Roy’s question. By the sounds of it, the boy was somewhere near the downstairs toilet. Of course, Edward couldn’t help himself and argued back, voice full of mischief.

 

“He can do what he likes, Al!”

 

“Oh good.” Roy grumbled to himself, squeezing the bridge of his nose with one hand. Judging by the goading tone of Ed’s voice, Al was likely entirely responsible for whatever it was that had gotten loose in the home. The brat wouldn’t be nearly so gleeful otherwise. Nevertheless, Roy elected to stay exactly where he was. This sort of mess was not nearly as uncommon an occurrence as he would like. The poor Colonel did not dare shut himself back up in his study, much as he was tempted to - not after last time when an over-enchanted fountain pen had snuck in past his foot, at least.

 

the sudden absence of noise brought Roy out of his thoughts none too soon. An unholy shriek that was followed by a heavy clatter of quick footsteps was his only proper warning. He braced himself with one hand on the doorjamb and craned his neck to look around the corner of the hallway. Roy finally caught a glimpse of… something.

 

Black as coal, squat, nearly spherical, and sporting two pointy ears, it raced down the hall towards him on four stumpy legs. The construct opened a mouth to shriek once more, a gout of steam erupting from its tail - at which point Roy realized the thing was formerly some manner of teapot.

 

Not sure whether the creature meant to attack him or not, the man released his wand from its holster. Before he’d even thrown up a shield, Alphonse came barreling around the corner as well. The boy launched himself at the not-teapot when the thing put on a burst of speed, and fell on the creature in a noisy heap. They rolled together before finally coming to a stop just beyond the study door where Roy still stood ready.

 

“Al!” Ed called out as he came tripping down the hall just when his younger brother righted himself with the construct now grasped safely between his gauntlets. It let out a pitiful, mewling sort of whistle at having been caught. The Colonel realized then:

 

“Is that supposed to be a _cat_?” He asked, exasperated.

 

Al wilted into a pout even as Ed burst out laughing.

 

“Shut up, Ed!” Al hissed. The squat little cat seemed to agree with Alphonse and hissed steam in displeasure. To Roy, he replied, “One of the books we read downstairs cites object alliteration as an easier method for first-time transfigurative casting. I just wanted to try it - so I thought ‘kettle-to-kitten’ might be a good one to start out with, sir.”

 

Ed snorted. “You just wanted to make a cat, you mean.” Al pouted a bit more at that, but when he held the kettle-cum-cat out to his brother, Ed barely rolled his eyes when he reached to take the thing so that Alphonse could stand and straighten his armor out properly. Roy examined the awkward little construct more closely as Ed returned it to his brother, mildly amused that it began to rattle and emit tiny puffs of steam as it settled into the boy’s arms - no doubt a purr.

 

Not until after the boys had shuffled off back down to the lab did Roy’s mind catch up to the fact that an eleven-year-old boy had attempted a more than halfway successful inanimate-to-animate transfiguration based on the advise of a book he’d read the night before. A rather large transfiguration, as it happened. Much more complex than insects or turtles, as was common for his age group in formal schooling.

 

It was with a sinking feeling that Roy realized he was actually going to have to write to Albus for advice. Infuriating he may be, but Albus Dumbledore _was_ a brilliant, accomplished academic who was accustomed to dealing with teenagers on the regular. A fact Riza had not-so-subtly hinted at on more than one occasion.

 

Most magical study in Amestris was informal. Any knowledge gained beyond basic concepts taught during summer sessions to young magical children was either taught at home or acquired through self-study. Amestrians in general were a pragmatic lot; they took a rather dim view of any branch of study which did not have a suitably practical application. Thus, even the basics that were taught had been pared down to the most useful or necessary of skills: potions, charms, healing.

 

And of course, alchemy.

 

Tricia Elric, apparently a talented local herbalist in her own right, had nevertheless subscribed to the same philosophy as the majority of magical Amestrians. Why fuss with spells when there was a simple and more practical solution to a problem?

 

And, for all that Van Hoenheim (from what little information Maes had so far managed to scrape up) was purported to be well-traveled and educated, the man had dedicated astonishingly little shelf space to practical spell-work, beyond a handful of texts on theory or basic wand use.

 

 _And yet_. Even with so spotty an education these two boys had the potential to outstrip even some of Edward’s commissioned peers. By sheer dint of not knowing that attempting to transfigure a teakettle into a kitten shouldn’t be possible until the caster had more than one morning’s worth of practice under their belt… It was astonishing that Alphonse had managed it so well. Good grief - Roy was almost afraid to ask how they’d managed to charm their suitcase all those months ago.

 

And… what use was it, to be one more person telling them that something was impossible? Roy wanted to foster that brilliance - given the proper nourishment, the Elrics just might find a creative solution to their predicament (might be well shod of the Amestrian military) that much sooner.

 

Roy groaned and walked right back into the study he’d had no intention of entering again for the rest of the weekend.

 

He had a letter to write.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own part or parcel of Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter, or any of their affiliated companies.
> 
> Please Read and review - and stay tuned!


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